


don’t wanna be alone (wanna share it with you)

by the-noble-idiot (1004_Angel)



Series: Klance AU Month 2019 [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Artist Keith (Voltron), Barista Lance (Voltron), Lone Wolf Keith, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-10-20 09:24:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17619785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1004_Angel/pseuds/the-noble-idiot
Summary: Lance’s expression was tight, sad, even through the smile he tried to shove to the front. “Time for you go to, then, huh?”Keith swallowed thickly. “Yeah.”“Where you going this time?”“West.”“What’s out west?”Keith shrugged. “Dunno yet.”Lance stuffs his own hands into his pockets, shoulders bunching up around his ears as he looks everywhere but Keith. “Will you at least keep in touch?”Keith inhales, holds it, exhales. “You could come with me.”





	don’t wanna be alone (wanna share it with you)

**Author's Note:**

> Hey-o, Klance Month 2019 Day 1 - Coffee Shop
> 
> Title from The Oh Hellos - Hello My Old Heart

It was always that one guy.

Every time he entered the out-of-the-way tiny little café, he was always behind the counter. He didn’t know if he was the only employee or if he owned the place, but whatever the reason, he was always there. Sometimes he would be brewing coffee and attempting not to make a mess (succeeding about eighty five percent of the time), other times sweeping the floor to the rhythm of whatever song was playing over the speakers, mouthing the lyrics and swinging his hips. Sometimes, however, he would be on break and sit at a table in the corner, chin in his hand and eyes staring unseeing out the window into the street as he got lost in his own mind. Keith tried not to stare when he did that.

But today, that wasn’t the case. As the familiar jingling of bells sounded through the café with the opening door, Keith saw him behind the counter, talking with another man, this one on the heavier side but clear through his shirt that it was all muscle. The other man said something that made the object of Keith’s attention laugh, a bright high-pitched sound that sounded right at home in the comfortable atmosphere.

The cafe was oddly crowded today, the line longer than usual. Keith pursed his lip in annoyance and skipped the line to claim his usual table, the one by the window. Swinging his bag over the chair, he rested his chin in the cup of his hands and watched the pedestrians saunter by through the glass, filled with sonder. It was a shame he couldn’t be that calm and mundane. His life was too screwed up for it to be worthy of simple pedestrian life. He was a traveller, always on the go, no time to settle down like those people. His time in this small backwater town was slowly dwindling, until inevitably he would pack up his cheap motel room and resume his journey, destination: unknown.

“The usual?”

Keith jerked, mind torn from his thoughts as he looked up to see the brown-haired boy had approached him, his conversation with the other man obviously terminated, for the time being anyway. The line had dwindled to nothing, Keith realized, and sitting in a cafe without having ordering anything must have prompted the man’s approach. His voice was strangely high-pitched for a boy of his estimated age, laced with a thin Spanish accent, but charming all the same.

“Caramel –”

“Espresso, extra caramel with whipped cream,” he finished, a cheeky grin on his boyish face. “And chocolate drizzle.”

He let out a light laugh. “Spot on.”

“I’ll be back.”

He turned back to fetch Keith’s order, adjusting his bright blue work vest. Keith reached behind him to pull a sketchbook from his back, adjusting his position in the chair as he flipped through his WIPs until he found the one he was looking for: a view outside the very window he sat beside, taking in the small rustic buildings across the street that hugged a weekend farmer’s market that opened up every Saturday morning. Shopkeepers shoutered their wares as parents dragged their children behind them as they bee-lined for the vegetables or handwoven baskets.

He would miss this tiny little place when he inevitably had to leave. He would miss this small town located in the middle of nowhere and the outback of someplace, with its rustic scenery and personable locals. He’d been here for maybe a month or so, longer than he’d stayed anywhere else. He wasn’t sure what drove him to stay longer, but he couldn’t find himself complaining.

“Here,” said the barista’s voice, and a steaming cup of espresso wafted invitingly from the table.

“Thanks,” Keith smiled. “Here’s a ten.” He pressed the note into the barista’s hand, his skin warm through the paper.

He didn’t leave. “I’m Lance, by the way,” he grinned, sliding into the chair directly across from Keith. “I see you in here a lot, and never got to asking your name.”

He eyed him. “Keith.”

Lance seemed to find that information interesting. “That’s a retro name,” he said. “Goes with your hair.”

Keith blinked. “Thanks?”

“Lance!” came another voice, and Keith looked up to see the other man from earlier, his expression kindly exasperated as he restocks the pastry display. “Would you _please_ stop flirting for maybe _two seconds_ and help me back here?”

Keith choked back a laugh, covering his mouth with his hand in an attempt to hide his snorts.

Lance laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry, Hunk,” he said, standing. “I’ll see you around, Keith. Careful with the drink, it’s hot.”

He watched Lance go, a small smile on his lips. Their relationship closely resembled the bond he shared with his own adoptive brother, though they hadn’t seen each other in several months. He raised the steaming cup to his lips, hissing in pain as the scalding liquid burnt his tongue. “Eeeyaaah!”

From behind the counter, Keith could hear Lance’s howl of laughter.

.oOo.

The next week passed by slowly, but each morning saw Keith in the small café, and without fail Lance brought his caramel espresso. He found herself coming during the evening hours as well, not that he had anything better to do, just to see Lance’s smiling face and to talk to that energetic and outgoing man. He learned that Lance and his buddy Hunk ran the small coffee shop while their families were away, Hunk part-time since he also worked at an auto body shop, and Lance full-time, which explained why Keith always saw him there.

In return, Keith explained found himself telling Lance his own story, traveling aimlessly in search of something he didn’t know he was looking for. It was just him and Red, travelling through the country with nothing but a small backpack for essentials. He’d lived this way ever since aging out of the system, in spite of his latest foster family’s wishes. Bouncing from home to home instilled in Keith a sense of wanderlust, antsy if he stayed in one place for too long. So here he was.

“That sounds like so much fun,” Lance sighed, stretching out across the table, his face buried in his folded arms. “I wish I could do that.”

“Then why don’t you?”

“Because I have stuff to do here,” Lance sighed, straightening up in his chair, a faraway look in his eyes overcoming the spark he admired. Keith could tell that Lance was exactly like him; unable to stay in one place for too long, always casting his eyes out to the horizon and praying to any god that existed that he could see what was beyond that hazy line. But unlike Keith, the coffee boy was anchored to this small out-of-the-way town, unable to venture out into the unknown.

Keith looked down into his coffee. As much as he enjoyed travelling, there was no denying the crushing weight of loneliness that surrounded him at every turn. It took Keith a long time to learn the difference between _being alone_ and _being lonely,_ for a while believing the two to be synonymous and telling himself that he was okay on his own. But that wasn’t true at all. Without Shiro to nag him, without Pidge to keep him awake until all hours of the night, Keith’s social circle grew smaller and smaller until it encompassed him like a glove, hard as stone and not letting anyone past.

Until a Latino boy he barely knew showed up with a pickaxe and an espresso.

“Hey, Keith, are you okay?” Lance asked, and Keith looked up sharply, dark eyes meeting his. He must have had a really strange expression; concern was reflected in Lance’s gaze.

“Oh, yeah.” He laughed to ease the tension. “Just fine.”

“Lance!”

Said coffee boy flinched as his friend’s warning call came to his ears. He slid from the table, but before he went he laid a hand on Keith’s. When he looked up in curiosity, he was absorbed by the ear-to-ear grin on Lance’s face. “If you ever need anybody to talk to, you’ll find me here,” he said, and joined his friend behind the counter where a queue had assembled.

Keith watched him leave, a spark igniting in his chest. Why did he feel as though he could trust Lance with his entire life story? Keith had only seen Lance when he spent time in this coffee house; it wasn’t like they spent free time together, there was no way he could have already built up enough trust to allow himself to be this exposed. He had never opened up this quickly before, but he was discovering that he didn’t mind it all that much. Not when it was Lance.

As Keith moved to gather his bag, he noticed a slip of paper wedged between his fingers. He didn’t remember putting anything of the sort there, and unwrinkled the paper to reveal numbers scratched messily on it in red pen.

A light flush gathered in Keith’s cheeks. Lance had left him his cell phone number. What did that mean? Was this Lance’s way of asking to be friends?

Whatever his motive, Keith was grateful Lance was showing some sort of compassion and friendship. He slipped the paper into his pocket, standing from the table and leaving a few coins as a tip before pushing his way out of the cafe and back into the world.

 .o0o.

 Keith -> Unknown Number

You could have just given me your number like a normal person

 

Lance -> Keith

Where’s the fun in that? :D

 

Keith -> Lance

Why did you give me your phone number anyway?

 

Lance -> Keith

What, a guy can’t give another guy his phone number?

 

Keith -> Lance

Never said you couldn’t

Just wanted to know why

 

Lance -> Keith

Because I like you, Keith

I want to be your friend

 .o0o.

 When Keith finally felt the itch under his skin, the telltale sign that he had lingered for far too long, the first thing he did was text Lance. They met up just after the lunch rush, Keith outside the coffee shop he had practically lived in for two months with his belongings strapped to his back and motorcycle helmet tucked under one arm.

Lance met him there, pulling his apron over his head and ruffling his hair in the process. Keith put his hands in his jacket pockets to stop himself from running his hands through it.

Lance’s expression was tight, sad, even through the smile he tried to shove to the front. “Time for you go to, then, huh?”

Keith swallowed thickly. “Yeah.”

“Where you going this time?”

“West.”

“What’s out west?”

Keith shrugged. “Dunno yet.”

Lance stuffs his own hands into his pockets, shoulders bunching up around his ears as he looks everywhere but Keith. “Will you at least keep in touch?”

Keith inhales, holds it, exhales. “You could come with me.”

Lance blinks. “I’m sorry what.”

“Your family’s back, right? Hunk and them can cover the shop.”

“Keith _what,_ I can’t just uproot my life and travel without a plan--”

“I know you feel that same wanderlust that I do, Lance, I can see it every time I tell you about the places I’ve been.”

“My family is here, Hunk, I can’t just leave them--”

“We can come back and visit.”

“I don’t want to be a burden--”

“I want you to come with me.”

That makes Lance pause. “You… do?” Keith detects the hopeful lilt in Lance’s tone and latches on to it.

“I’ve stayed in this place longer than anywhere else. Because of you. Because you’re my friend. And… and I’m tired to travelling alone.” Keith meet’s Lance’s eyes, steeling his nerves. “I’m tired of being lonely.”

Lance lurches forward, wrapping his arms around Keith’s shoulders and burying his face into Keith’s neck. Keith returns the embrace, not used to such intimacy but discovering that he likes it. Lance smells like coffee and cinnamon buns.

Lance pulls back, but stays close enough that Keith can feel the warmth of his body radiating against his own. “Where do we start?”


End file.
